Through the Eyes of the Cursed
by Darke Eco Freak
Summary: Just a little peak into the mind of our Hero, what does he really think about his City and those who live there?


**DEF: So yet another one shot from me, hope you like**

_Vita: Once again, we don't own Jak and/or Dax, which is so sad because we wouldn't have given it to HIG_

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><p>Blood, Horror, Pain, Torture, things I lived through each and every fucking day.<p>

The Underground regarded me as a hero, what was left of it anyway, after Ashelin had ascended to the throne; it had been disbanded in favor of a new KG. The old KG hated me with a vengeance, which was okay, I still remembered prison, I would give anything to be able to kill every single one of those pathetic bastards but I had to restrain myself. I had to remember that those bastards were dead and there was no point in killing those left for something they hadn't done. It was logical if you said it like that but the darker side of my psyche didn't respond to logic, it only wanted blood, it didn't care whose blood it was.

The Freedom League either hated me or feared me, I didn't give fuck either way, and they were just lucky I didn't want their blood too, several old KG had been found bled out on the streets but the murders could never be pinned to me. For one thing, no one had ever seen me around the crime scene and any who had were in no condition to speak much less accuse. Part of me knew it was wrong, hell, all of me knew it would get me sent straight to hell but wasn't I already living in a hellhole? What more could there ever be? And _**that **_was how I was able to face myself in the morning, tell myself that everything would be okay because it sure wasn't gonna get any worse.

The worst of the set were probably the citizens, they treated me like a monster that would snap at any second, maybe they were right to think that, I never did have full control of that side of my consciousness. Call me schizophrenic but at times I could almost _**hear**_ the beast talking to me, whispering things in my ear, trying to get me to break. Daxter knew, he had given up staying with me, he would stay at the Naughty Ottsel claiming to have lots of customers, liar, he just didn't want to be around the beast. I supposed I couldn't blame him, after all he'd stood by me when no one else had and I shouldn't envy him an attempt at a normal life. It was my fault we'd ended up in this place and he'd been with me through thick and thin, he'd been more than I deserved to have and now it was his turn to make peace with his inner demons.

Keira had abandoned me long ago, she preferred to stay in her garage among the safe vehicles, hidden behind her machines instead of in the presence of this monster that had killed her childhood friend and was living the lie. I knew all that but it still didn't stop me from hating her guts, wanting to creep into her garage at night and paint the walls with her blood. Samos didn't even hide his disgust, he didn't even show his face to me, he stayed with Onin in the filthy little tent which they had moved to outside the old palace.

None of them knew where_** I**_ stayed, not even Torn or Ashelin, it was better that way, they would just scorn me more than they already did was which I wasn't sure was all that possible. They barely addressed me during war meetings and if they did they wore false smiles, I think I would prefer their true disgust to the lie. All my life had turned out to be a lie, Samos had known right from the beginning yet he'd stayed quiet while I worked ever towards my own demise. When I'd gotten free of the prison, at least I had a goal to work for, something to keep me oriented, as it turned out, that was a lie too. The one who'd caused me the worst pain was dead and that had kept the insanity at bay for a while but then that bastard resurfaced bringing with him death once more.

After the Underground had been disbanded, no one had bothered to get rid of the old Hideout, although it had been stripped of everything except the bunk beds and the furnace. There were no cameras planted inside and the door was voice activated, it was the perfect place to hide, plus not that many people had known about it in the first place. Only someone who had known the Hideout, had lived in it as precious few had would even recognize it now, and those few would turn tail and run for their lives.

Before it when it had been a headquarters for an underground movement, there had been maps of high level security buildings on the walls, access codes, pictures of high ranking officials and hit lists, lots of those, the dead was usually vastly outnumbered by those still to die. There were also lists of those who had died fighting for this accursed City, more than I'd cared to count had decorated the spare concrete walls.

Now those very same walls bore deep lacerations gauged into the stone, blood turned black with time stained the floor like a gruesome carpet, Dark Eco pooled in the shadowed corners of the room. The furnace had been ripped out leaving the small chamber colder than the wastelands at night, and darker than the catacombs, just the way I liked it, creatures such as I hated the sun's rays. Those such as us did not deserve its purity, it was one of the reasons Dark eco only flourished in the dank shadows.

At night I would curl up on the threadbare mattress and try to keep myself sane as the two ecos tore through my body, fighting each other, destroying and healing faster than I could scream. The blessing had turned into a curse, and I wasn't all that surprised, after all, those we called Gods hid while innocents died for them, upholding their legacy.

The Hideout was soundproofed, that was good, otherwise guards would be down there in mass to investigate what was making those God awful noises, or maybe they would've just ran.

Roars, whimpering, maniacal laughter, crying, growls, screaming, that's what I would spend my night's doing, all the while trying not to give into the darkness that clawed at my soul. So sweet and enticing like the siren's song, promising to take the pain away, to give the relief I craved.

Sometimes it was just a vague concept, the only thing my tortured mind could think of to escape the terrible pain, the pain that had me bent at impossible angles, screaming until my throat was raw. Other times it called to me, begging me to give up, give in to the demands, to embrace the dark desires of my soul, most times I was able to resist, most times, other times it was oh so very different.

The times I gave in were amazing and electrifying, it was like getting high on the most addicting drug in the world. The feel of bones as they cracked under blind aggression, the exquisitely cooper taste of blood as it filled my maw with its succulence. The smell of fear and terror would fill my head, in its own way it _**was**_ a drug and I was addicted to it, hook line and sinker.

When I came back to my senses, I would be horrified with myself, I was _**not **_a monster but while they died in my iron grip it was hard to remember what was right and wrong. Some deaths didn't faze me while most just left me with a vague guilt, was that an indicator of my growing insanity? Was it because of the experiments, had they affected me on a deeper level than I originally thought? Or was always there, just under the surface just waiting for a chance to come out and play.

What scared me the most was that I had no answer to those questions. Had I descended so far into lunacy that I didn't care who or what I killed anymore? Looking at the last few months I would say yes, my sense of justice had been horribly altered by these people, this City. I could wake up in the morning with blood stained on my hands and not care that I couldn't remember what I'd done the night before. I could kill without a qualm, I gave into the creature more and more, it was fast approaching the point where I would be the monster more than I was myself. Long stretches of time where he would take over and I would experience the bliss I so craved, it was like dying, only better.

I would cease to exist, he would control my, our body and do with it as he pleased, any injuries were healed by the time I came back. To anyone else, it would be terrifying, unbearable, but to me it was a blessing, I had spent nearly four years ripped in half between what I wanted and what was right, well no more. I had finally found a way to exist without the pain constantly clawing at my insides, even if I had to endure it sometimes; I knew that it would soon end.

A time when I would step out of the mortal world, let a monster take over and not feel the least guilty because, like Daxter, I deserved it. I had worked for eighteen years, fourteen of which I was blissfully ignorant to my destiny, the last four in which I worked my ass off to save them. So now, while they slept in their beds, thinking they were oh so safe, all danger had past. I would be free to finally rest, to not care as the City I hard to protect was torn apart from the inside out by the one threat they couldn't be saved from.

Their 'Hero' would destroy them all and they would be none the wiser until it was too late and they were all dead and gone. As their City burned, I would laugh at them, I would finally see the end to the City that I'd come to hate so much. I would finally get my revenge on Praxis, that bastard, had died on me but I had a new agenda now, destroy the one thing he'd fought for with his dying breath.

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><p><strong>DEF: Read and Review<strong>


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